


somebody can love you forever

by rhythmicroman



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (i legitimately can't remember if it is or not so), (it's canon fuck you), (now yall cant bitch abt it), (platonic of course), (there), (u can all fight me ok), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, British English, Canon Non-Binary Character, Dehumanization, Gender Identity, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I Wrote This For Fun, Isolation, Non-Binary Party Poison, Non-binary character, Rating May Change, Sedatephobia, Sensory Deprivation, Sibling Love, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Trans Character, Trans Kobra Kid, Trans Male Character, Warnings May Change, because hi hello im a brit, bl/ind r assholes, the killjoys are CHARACTERS and not mcr members
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14107398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmicroman/pseuds/rhythmicroman
Summary: Better Living Industries: Somebody can love you forever!The story of Party Poison, from start to finish, no matter how dull and drab the start and finish may be.Remember, kids: Killjoys never die!





	somebody can love you forever

**Author's Note:**

> i was bored and i saw a BL/ind gif on tumblr so here we go kids  
> this may be highkey canon divergent bc i haven't read ttlotfkj in a good while
> 
> (party is nb + kobra is trans bc they're my headcanons, don't be dicks about it & just don't read if u care that much. also this runs by the (again, probably divergent) storyline that the killjoys existed before the fab four.)
> 
> and yes, i'm naming every chapter after a song i like. yes, this involves non-mcr songs.

Party used to be one of them – one of the boring, lifeless people who lived inside the colourless city walls and spent their days in silence. They used to act as they were told, like every little BL/ind boy; cut their hair short and dye it black, never hum or sing, never mention what’s outside.

But the biggest rule was one they’d always despised: Never, under any circumstances, look a Killjoy in the eyes.

Rumours regarding the Killjoys came in many flavours, the majority negatively biased; some claimed that the killjoys were demons sent to deconstruct their society, and others regarded them as angels sent to save them (though this was never spoken out loud, only whispered from mouth to ear in the schoolyard, when they’d ducked behind bins to escape the security cameras).

And one day the Killjoys came, brightly spangled and loud, with their music playing full blast – and Party, despite their mother’s panic, had slid out from under their bed and wandered outside, to face the colour and the music.

It was Doctor Death-Defying that spotted them first, the leader of a small group of miscellaneous rebels, and it was Doctor Death-Defying that took them by their (small, at that time, and pale) hands and asked them, “Do you like the colour, little one?”

They considered saying no, like they’d been told, and running back to their mother’s arms; but then they spotted her cowering behind a doorway, eyes welling up with tears of frustration and fear, and they found themselves nodding.

The Doctor let out a sigh of relief, as if he’d been waiting for exactly that answer. “Attakid,” he muttered, “so go get the littler one, and we’ll go see more colour.”

Party found Kobra hiding under the house’s scaffolding, and tucked the smaller child under their arm as they followed Doctor Death-Defying home.

* * *

 

“Do they still give you names, at least?”

It was reluctant, but the kid shook their head again, and the Doctor sighed in soft frustration. BL/ind had a horrible habit of dehumanising their civilians with barcodes and numbered names, but now they seemed to not even do that.

This kid had potential, he could see it in their eyes; and they were bright eyes, too, unlike the dull grey ones that BL/ind loved to produce. No, they were green – bright and wide.

He hummed, tapped his pen on the desk, thought of anything he could ask the kid to at least get a personality – and then he got it, and rummaged through his drawer until he found an old, slightly-crumpled colour palette. He smoothed it out on the table and spun it so the kid could read it.

“Which of these is your favourite?” He licked his dry lips. “We can colour your hair your favourite colour, so then they don’t think you’re with BL/ind.”

The kid rocked forwards on their knees, and ran their pale fingers over each colour individually, before stopping on one.

It was a bright, cherry red, brighter than any shade Doc had seen on another Killjoy yet – and the kid was tapping eagerly on the laminated paper, tiny white fingers a stark contrast to the vibrant red.

“Red,” he told them, “that’s red.”

They nodded, and chewed at their chapped lips. “Red.” Their voice held a slight accent, one Doc had never heard in a BL/ind kid, and one he hadn’t expected to hear since the old world had died. The kid’s voice was wobbly and scratchy and entirely alien, but held a slight familiarity that he could cling to.

His eyes flicked up to the kid’s hair – it’d been a good few weeks road-tripping home, and it had grown from its short crop to hang in front of the kid’s face slightly, brown roots showing where it had grown. He wondered absently how long it’d take to wash out the black, before smiling at the kid kindly.

“Then we’ll dye your hair red,” he spoke softly, “so you’ll always be colourful.”

He tried to slide the palette away, but the kid slammed their hand down on it and muttered something near-incoherent about needing it a while longer; and then jabbed at a pretty shade of yellow with determination in their eyes.

“For,” they stumbled on their words, “for Littler.”

_(Littler, because the siblings didn’t yet have names, and the other Killjoys had taken to calling them ‘Little and Littler’.)_

“Alright,” he found himself smiling, “for Littler.”


End file.
